


Fifty-Two Dark Nights

by Molly_Hats



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Dark Nights: Metal
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Bad Ending, Because it’s AUs, Dark Multiverse, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Multi, Multiverse, OOC, One Shot Collection, Some additional warning tags on individual chapters, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly_Hats/pseuds/Molly_Hats
Summary: There were 52 universes in the Dark Multiverse.  These are the stories of them—their batfamilies, their cities and peoples, and their falls.Note: Some characterizations May be OOC.  I justify this with it being AUs where everything is terrible (which can include uncharacteristic violence, jerkiness, etc.).  What’s  really sad is how many canon, Prime-or-New Earth characterizations have the OOC bits without the justification.





	1. Earth -1: Barbara Gordon

“Careful, Batgirl,” Batman’s voice came over the comm as Barbara swung through the city. “We don’t know what caused this or what he’s capable of. Get the civilians out, don’t engage.”

Barbara almost rolled her eyes. “Understood.” 

“Look!” Someone screamed below her. “Up in the sky!”

Barbara landed on the ground, looking up where the man was pointing. There were the familiar colors, the bright red and blue of Superman, protector of the innocent. The man hovered for a moment, surveying the people, before turning and flying directly into a large skyscraper. 

The people below gasped and screamed as the building sagged in seeming slow-motion, twisting and crumbling like a tree struck by lightning, finally lurching sideways into the street. Everyone around Barbara scrambled out of the way, but one boy stood frozen, camera in hand, staring up at the falling building in shock. He seemed unable to move, trapped in the center of the shadow. 

Barbara hurled herself at him, racing against time, against the building, against Superman in the hope that this particular hare didn’t care what the tortoises were doing enough to stop them. She slammed into the boy, the camera flying out of his hands, and rolled to catch the brunt of the blow. She skidded across the ground, feeling her skin bruise even through the Kevlar. 

The boy reached out for his camera as the building came down feet from where they’d landed. “My camera! I had…” He turned to see Batgirl as if realizing she was there for the first time. “I’m so sorry, I’m being an idiot.” 

Barbara watched him as she caught her breath. His black hair stuck up every-which-way, and he was wearing a truly horrible ensemble that hadn’t been fashionable...ever, and hadn’t been considered worth being caught dead in since 1997. He was truly lucky to be alive. 

“You’re _Batgirl_ ,” he said with obvious awe. He touched his chest, feeling for the camera that was no longer there. “I’m...you’re…”

“You have any parents, kid?” Barbara cut him off. 

“Yeah. They’re out of town.”

“You’re staying on your own?”

“With a nanny.” He made a face. “It’s fine.”

“Then get home, kiddo. As soon as you can. Stay safe.”

“Yes ma’am. Batgirl. Yes, Batgirl.” He ran off.

Barbara smiled as she stood up, her sore torso throbbing at the effort. 

“Batgirl!” Bruce’s worried voice came over the comm. “Are you alright?”

“Bit bruised, no real damage,” Barbara said. 

“Okay. Then get downtown. We need more hands with the evacuation.”

“On it,” Barbara said. She opted to run, racing through the city streets, past ash-covered, shell-shocked civilians with bloodied faces. 

“Batgirl, look out!” someone screamed. She recognized it as the boy from earlier and glanced back over her shoulder to find him. The world went black.

 

She woke up in a hospital with a bump on her head, unable to feel her legs. Her father was asleep in a chair by her bedside, a bouquet of flowers on the table beside him. 

She grabbed the hospital notepad and pen off of her bedside table and started writing, desperate to get her ideas down as soon as possible.

 

“Barbara,” Bruce said, storming into her hospital room in a fury. “What is the meaning of this?” He held up the envelope of the letter she had sent him, pulling out papers of plans and notes on how to defeat Superman.

“It’s not him anymore,” Barbara said. She balled her hand into a fist as she continued, “I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s what we have to do.”

Bruce stared wordlessly at her. 

“You took an oath, Bruce. That nobody would go through what you went through. I know you don’t want to kill, I know that might be too much for you to take, but please. You need to do this.”

“You’re ordering me to kill someone. My friend.”

“I’m telling you that it’s the right thing to do and showing you how,” Barbara corrected. “It’s your decision to follow through or not. I’d do it myself to spare you the trauma, but that’s not an option at the moment.”

“When did you become so ruthless?” Bruce asked.

She ignored the question. “Superman killed civilians. He killed his own family. It doesn’t matter what happened to him or who he used to be. We need to take him down, and Clark would agree.”

Bruce sat down heavily, his eyes resting on the notes in his lap. “Barbara…”

“It’s why he gave you that Kryptonite,” she said. “He trusted you to go through with it. I wish I could go with you,” Barbara said. “But I’d just hold you back like this. With some time to adjust, it might have been different…”

Bruce nodded. “Hnn.”

Barbara smiled slightly. There was the Bruce she knew and loved. 

He stood up. “I’ll confront him.” He moved forward awkwardly, leaned over her hospital bed, and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “Stay safe, Barbara.” He glanced down at the notes in his hands.

She smiled, stuffing the sadness down. “I will. Good luck, Bruce.”

“Hnn.” He left the room, his long black coat flowing behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Oracle Day! I know this doesn’t really showcase Babs as Oracle, but had (my interpretation of) this universe persisted, we would have gotten to full Oracle. 
> 
> Anybody have any good fics that delve into Barbara Gordon’s morality? Particularly in contrast to Dick and/or Bruce?


	2. Earth -2: Bruce Wayne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: suicide

The funeral was relatively small, mostly kids from his school. Jack, Dana, and Mrs. MacIlvaine stood to one side. Jack’s face was unreadable, but Mrs. MacIlvaine sobbed. 

“I thought ‘e’d see me into the grave, sometimes,” she said in a voice which was probably louder than she intended it to be. “But he was a sweet boy. Never thought I’d live to see the day ‘e’d leave us.”

Dana ran her hand along Jack’s arm, murmuring something in his ear. Jack didn’t give any response.

They lay him to rest near his mother, Bruce and Dick lagging at the back of the funeral party. Bruce tried to reach out to Dick, but the younger man pushed his hand off his shoulder, moving forward to pay his respects alone. Bruce lagged behind, ignored by all but a few curious classmates of Tim’s who stared at him, trying to determine his connection or measure his grief against the gossip.

Bruce washed his hands, mind filled with memories of his first time burying a child--burying a Robin--when that clown killed Jason. He hadn’t done anything to stop him from killing again. 

 

Bruce rushed home as soon as he could, heading downstairs immediately. Alfred found him the cave, halfway into his work clothes, the video of the murder on the screen.

“He wanted me to see,” Bruce said, resting his head on his gloved hand. He zoomed in on the figure looming over Robin. “He wanted me to know it was him.”

“Are you sure, master Bruce?” Alfred asked. “He could be an imitator--trying to get in your head--”

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, that face still engraved on his eyelids. “I’m going out,” he declared, standing up. He grabbed his cowl and slipped it on.

 

Batman swung through the window, his foot colliding with glass and almost equally fragile boards. The figure in the room stood up as Bruce landed in the center of the floor in a spray of debris. 

His green eyes appeared to literally glow in the darkness, although Bruce couldn’t tell with his lenses on. He switched them off. 

“Hello, Bruce,” the figure said, stepping into the light. He smiled humorlessly. 

He had changed. A lock of his black hair had turned bright white, and his blue eyes were now an unnaturally bright green—Lazarus green. He was paler than he’d ever been--he’d always tanned as quickly as Tim burned. In the limited light from the streetlights outside the shattered window, the details seemed to catch the light and glow from within with some haunting, horrible radiance. There was an almost supernatural grace to his movements as he approached, as if his body hadn’t realized he wasn’t a ghost. Bruce had half expected him to be slow, lumbering, even after watching the footage where he had been anything but. 

“Red Hood,” Bruce growled, standing.

“Please,” Red Hood said, a not-quite-smirk playing across his features, dragging various scars toward his mouth, “call me Jason.”

Bruce grabbed Jason by the front of his leather jacket and slammed him into the wall. “You murdered Robin.”

Jason sobered immediately. “I didn’t set a bomb,” he said. “That was what killed me, you know,” he added conversationally. “I just beat him.” There was a manic look in his eye as he continued, “he fought at first. Tried to appease me, said you loved me, like I’d believe him. Then he tried to be tough, told me he wouldn’t hold back.” Jason laughed, unstable, but unlike the Joker’s. This was a low laugh, more personal, almost affectionate, as if remembering the troublesome first days of a beloved dead pet. “Landed a few decent hits. They’re fading now,” he pointed to his eye, tracing the faint outline of a bruise. 

Bruce grabbed the hand by the wrist and pulled it away from his son’s face, Jason letting him. Jason leaned closer to Bruce over their hands, the other casually at his side. “So. What are you going to do?”

Bruce glared at Jason. Sometime, Jason had grown taller, broader, his eyes resting at the same height as Bruce’s.

“You didn’t save me. You didn’t save him.” Jason’s face was dead serious again. In Bruce’s grip, his fist clenched. “You didn’t kill Joker.”

“He had diplomatic immunity—“

“Bullshit!” Jason suddenly shouted into Bruce’s face. “Like you ever gave a fuck about who the law would let you go after.” He calmed just as quickly, shoving his hand to Bruce’s chest, the back of his fist resting on the bat symbol. “So prove you cared more about him than about me. Prove you’ve learned how to love, like a fucking Disney cartoon from hell.” 

Bruce abruptly yanked Jason’s hand to the side as he swung at Jason’s face with his other hand. Jason landed on the floor, not much the worse for wear, only a small cut on his chin reopened. He smiled, touching the bloody spot. “That was the replacement’s. You work well together.” 

Bruce grabbed Jason by the jacket collar and went to throw him into the wall, but Jason was ready this time and knocked Bruce’s hand away, kneeing him in a chink in his armor. 

Bruce grunted but recovered quickly. 

“You let me die. You let him die. When’s it going to stop, Bruce?” Jason asked, knocking Bruce from behind with a board. “Have you already got your eye on a new replacement? Another black-haired, blue-eyed boy you can throw into danger?” His voice cracked. “Or maybe you’ll learn this time.”

“Stop talking,” Bruce hissed.

“That blonde girl who’s been following you around, she’d make a good corpse. " He paused a second before continuing, the anger in his voice undercutting his 'mistake.' “oops. I mean, a good Robin. Same difference, right?”

“Jason--”

“When’s it going to end?!” Jason asked, flinging one hand up as he lifted a gun with the other. “When’s the fucking end, B?”

“Now!” Bruce roared. He raised the discarded gun and fired at Jason’s torso, hitting him on the left side of his chest. Jason gasped, partly from pain and partly from surprise. “Now’s the fucking end!”

Jason stepped forward and collapsed, breathing hard. “Good...job B…” He stopped breathing.

“No!” Bruce whispered. He rushed to Jason’s side, trying to find a way to stem the bleeding, but he saw immediately there was nothing he could do. “Nonononononono…” 

 

“In other news,” Jack Rider solemnly addressed his audience through the television screen, “Billionaire founder of the Wayne Foundation Bruce Wayne was found dead of an apparent suicide. Forensics reported that while they initially thought it a homicide due to the unusual placement of the fatal wound, they eventually ruled it a suicide.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. 
> 
> This shall hereafter be known as "the chapter that made my FBI agent very concerned before I opened google drive," as my google searches included (but were not limited to) "autopsy incision" (and several variations thereof), "blunt force trauma cause of death," "target with heart location," "suicide by gunshot to heart,” “Batman firearms," “forensics suicide vs homicide,” and "Jason Todd beats Tim Drake" (searching for that specific scene in Teen Titans upon which this one-shot was mostly based). Although, compared to the typo that had me accidentally searching for "kneecapping fun" (At Least I've Still Got a Tongue), this is pretty tame.
> 
> Don't worry, everybody in this dysfunctional found family will get a chance to play the white hats and the black hats--I don't have it out for Jason in particular.


End file.
